Right Where It Belongs
by Cupe
Summary: Songfic for Zemyx day. The tables are turned and Zexion finds himself the specimen of someone who threatens to make some important changes to his routine. 'If you look at your reflection, is it all you want it to be'.


_Author Note: Okay I know this wanders quite a lot...But I like it. I wanted to write something for Zemyx day, and I needed some inspiration, upon putting my iPod on shuffle, this song came on, and it...Fits so nicely._

_Song is Right Where It Belongs by Nine Inch Nails, go listen to it or Right Where It Belongs V2, both are amazing._

--

**Right Where It Belongs**

_See the animal in his cage that you built,_

_Are you sure what side you're on?_

A lone figure walks down corridors of bleached stone, his boots click clacking on the cold marble, the sound filling the empty void like silence of the long hall. He walks slowly, yet with a purpose, burning determination obvious in his very posture, to the trained eye at least. And a well trained eye indeed watches, shadowing him silently, forever the observer, never the specimen. If the figure turned, he would see emptiness, nobody was awake at this time of night. It was irony unknown to the nocturnal male that Nobody indeed was following him, almost like a faithful dog or stalker (though said watcher would never admit to either). He was unaware of his unseen companion, as he was not permitted to know. Yet.

_Better not look him too closely in the eye,_

_Are you sure what side of the glass you are on?_

This is what the watcher believes, that his quarry is completely oblivious to his presence, and perceives his surroundings as empty and silent as the grave. The watcher has never been wrong before, but the other male has made him question every theory and hypothesis set in stone as he does not abide by the rules that every one else has. The again, he smiles to himself, the other is not everyone else, far from it. The watcher considers the figure an anomaly, a freak result in the experiment, a miscalculation. Though he has to admit to himself that he has grown rather fond of this miscalculation in the past few weeks. The watcher doesn't know he has missed the way the other has observed him, making less scientific mental notes of his mannerisms, but mental notes nonetheless.

_See the safety of the life you have built,_

_Everything where it belongs_

Zexion is curled up in a very old but very comfortable chair in the library, a book in his lap, nothing out of the ordinary. He had sensed the other's presence, but has made no indication that he knows the other watcher is there. He had caught him staring at him the previous day; the look in those eyes...Analysing and calculating. A look he had only ever seen in his own eyes. And Zexion realises with a well hidden pang that the bubbly Melodious Nocturne is certainly deeper than everyone believed him to be. Demyx wore his non existent heart on his sleeve, not academically inclined, but his talents lay in his creativity; his music. Occasionally, it would filter through the walls, into the library, an eerie background melody that both warmed and chilled the Cloaked Schemer to the bone. Sometimes, it was jubilant, upbeat, notes soaring like so many feathered wings in other worlds. Sometimes, it held a melancholy drone, the wings clipped, the angel grounded. Zexion would always feign indifference, no matter the tone. It was just another thing out of place in his carefully calculated routine.

_Feel the hollowness inside of your heart,_

_And it's all... right where it belongs_

One thing stood out from everything Zexion excelled at; His illusions. His ability to confuse and confound even the most analytical of people. He'd once heard someone say that if you lived with illusions too long, you would inevitably become one yourself, detached from reality, unable to let go of the comforting familiarity of the fantasy. Zexion was loathe to admit he had fallen to one such illusion: That he simply did not care. Demyx was just another Nobody; No heart, no matter how much that music of his begged to differ. Oh yes, the melodies spoke to him, Zexion wore he could hear the words weaved in with the chords as easily as if Demyx had been sat next to him, whispering lyrics in his ear:

_What if everything around you,_

_Isn't quite as it seems?_

Zexion shuddered every time the music took that tone, wondering if Demyx was aware that he knew that the melody filled the empty hole in the Nocturne's chest...Or that it affected him in the same way. Albeit in a lesser manner. It made him feel out of place, yet like he'd found his niche in the puzzle of this twisted half life. It was a conundrum. The musician was an oxymoron. It infuriated Zexion to no end, he couldn't figure out what it was that gave Demyx that quality. A simple action or choice of words, that help more complexity than most saw. Like light refracted in water. Ah, that definitely had something to do with it. Water was a very fitting element for him; clear, refreshing and inviting, yet deceptive, an underlying almost sinister power.

_What if all the world you think you know,_

_Is an elaborate dream?_

He hadn't dreamed before Demyx. Now his already sporadic sleeping pattern was disturbed by vivid visualisation of blues and greens, the colours hazy, as if underwater, light filtering down from above, a voice calling...Never had Zexion been able to remember what had been spoken, just remembered his reply, a complete and unadulterated 'yes'. It vexed him somewhat, not knowing what he was agreeing to...

_And if you look at your reflection,_

_Is it all you want it to be?_

It was a week later when Demyx shoved Zexion in front of a mirror, demanding he look at the state he was in. Lack of sleep and regular food had led to dark circles under eyes normally devoid of emotion, now devoid of anything at all, his skin more pallid, almost to the point of that of illness. He just...Stared at himself blankly, while Demyx ranted about how badly he was taking care of himself and how he would land himself in something serious if he didn't sort out his routine. He may have voiced his opinion that nothing was out of place, as the sitarist shook his head in disbelief and slight disgust before half dragging the somewhat dazed Schemer to the (thankfully) empty kitchen, refusing to let him go anywhere until he'd eaten something. Zexion begrudgingly did so, in the end, as he could see no point in arguing, especially when he knew the other was right...

_What if you could look right through the cracks,_

_Would you find yourself... find yourself afraid to see?_

Something had troubled him since that night. He spent his time in the library staring blankly at words on a page, keeping up the guise of reading while his mind ran over the strange feeling he's had in the pit of his stomach since Demyx had forced him into a more body friendly routine. And indeed, the blond was there every night, uncaring that he was giving orders to a superior, forcing Zexion to get enough sleep and eat regularly. It hung around him like a bad smell for a few days, until he finally snapped and asked Demyx outright why he was doing this. He should have anticipated the answer, really, the musician gave him one of those carefree smiles, wrapped an arm around him and leant in close, like it was a secret, "'Cause I care about you." He'd whispered, pulling back and away from him, still smiling. It had taken a good five minutes for the words to sink in, the realisation hitting him like a tonne of bricks. The look in Demyx's eyes...Those smiles he never showed anyone else to Zexion's extensive knowledge. Before either was fully aware of what was transpiring, Zexion had portaled away to his room, laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, utterly perplexed.

_What if all the world's inside of your head?_

_Just creations of your own_

A week and a half of carefully avoiding Demyx had passed, Zexion had made sure it was obvious he was still sleeping and eating, so as not to give the musician cause to come and find him. He had panicked, he would admit, the sheer knowledge that someone cared about him, especially someone without a heart, was...incredible. And incredibly stupid. Zexion had been worried that Demyx would let something...Somewhat worse slip, in that deceivingly innocent tone of his. Though his naivety was questionable, Zexion was sure that there had been a deeper meaning, though now he thought about it (as he had done on the hour, every hour, it seemed), he wondered if maybe he'd imagined it all and it had been nothing more than a genuinely friendly gesture. Zexion didn't want to believe he had fallen into an illusion of his own, but his cold sense of logic was a firm hand over everything else, "He has no heart, therefore he cannot feel. I have no heart, therefore I also, cannot feel. Any slight feeling is simply imaginary or a shadow of a memory of the emotion." He had to say it aloud, just for that extra reassurance. He didn't see the figure that had just entered the library leave as quickly and as silently as he'd come.

_Your devils and your gods all the living and the dead_

_And you're really all alone_

Sometimes, Zexion secretly entertained the idea of higher deities. Religious debates with oneself were a remarkably good way to pass the time. If he could turn off all logical and realistic thinking for even just a few minutes, he could see it all; utopia, dystopia, those in-between, those falling and those rising from the ashes. Despite his love of science, Zexion's power over illusions had made sure he'd kept a very strong imagination, after all, the best illusions were the most creative and elaborate. Each 'session' of fantasy was different, with only one recurring theme: He was utterly alone in each world, even if said place was bursting with people, he was not one of them, nor was he one of anything else. There was just him, and a crowd of others. It was through these that Zexion realised this was because he shunned any form of affection from others, having a sense of comradeship with a few other members, rather than friendship.

_You can live in this illusion,_

_You can choose to believe._

The music was distracting that night. More so than usual. It called to Zexion, in the same alto as the voice in his dreams. Again it spoke, the words garbled and illegible, diluted ink streaming down the parchment. He hadn't seen Demyx for nearly two whole weeks now, and hadn't heard him play in longer. Somehow, he preferred the suffocating silence than this...He felt like he wanted something...Something very special...And it was close..But just out of reach...The piece ended, leaving him shivering slightly, feeling a little shaken and frustrated. Was Demyx trying to send him a subliminal message or something? He didn't understand this at all...And it wouldn't do to lose more sleep over it. But still, two hours after retiring to bed, the almost mournful melody echoed in his mind on a constant loop, "What does it mean though!?" He asked aloud. His only answer deafening silence.

_You keep looking but you can't find the woods,_

_While you're hiding in the trees_

"You know, for someone as smart as you, you're really blind sometimes." Zexion lowered his book slightly, slightly more bloodshot than usual eyes narrowing at the form of the musician in front of him,  
"Oh really, Nine? And how exactly did you come to this conclusion?" Demyx rolled his eyes, taking the book firmly and pulling it out of the Schemer's grasp. The protest was silenced on his lips as the book was placed none too lightly on the nearby table, his place in the text no doubt lost, Zexion raised an eyebrow, looking more than a little irked, "I was reading that."  
"You were reading too far into it." Demyx's reply brought a double take out of Zexion,

"W..What?" He stares at the blond in confusion, but Demyx just smiles at him, a slight smugness to the expression,

"You think everything has to have a deeper meaning. A lot of stuff does, but sometimes, things are exactly as they seem." The Schemer frowns at this, "What are you on about, Nine?"  
"You think what happened a fortnight ago was a cover up for some deeper motive of mine. You, were wrong." He chuckles at this, though not unkindly,  
"You did get one thing right though..." He leant closer, effectively trapping Zexion in the chair, "I do like you. A lot." Zexion's eyes widened but then soft lips touched his and his mind went blissfully blank, allowing them both to simply the enjoy the kiss for what it was, feeling for all rights and purposes that while they may still lack hearts and their situation was far from perfect, something had finally slipped into place.

_What if everything around you,_

_Isn't quite as it seems?_

_What if all the world you used to know,_

_Is an elaborate dream?_

_And if you look at your reflection,_

_Is that all you want to be?_

_What if you could look right through the cracks,_

_Would you find yourself... find yourself afraid to see?_

--

_Post Script: I hope you enjoyed that! Please review, I love hearing feedback from my readers!_


End file.
